Ardik Silverhand
by QueenMindi
Summary: The first Urgal Dragon Rider is not what everyone expected. Faced with opposition from her own race, and prejudice from every other race in Alagaesia, Ardik and her dragon struggle to become the heroes their people wanted.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Oh no, the Urgal rights activist is back at it again! Haha but seriously. I read the part in _Inheritance_ about Urgals and Dwarves being added to the Dragon Rider bond spell, and I just had to write that story. So. Here it is. I hope you like it, and stuff. Leave reviews and I will love you. :) (also please let me know if I misrepresented or left out any aspects of the Urgal culture that were important. I did research but not a LOT.)

**Chapter 1**

Ardik picked up her travel pack and slung it over her shoulder, scanning the floor one last time for items she might have forgotten.

"Little sister," her brother called from outside the hut. "We are ready to go. Hurry up!"

The Urgralgra girl grinned and hurried toward the door, pausing to retrieve her sturdy sandals from just inside the door. She was still hopping on one foot, putting on the left sandal, as she joined her brothers and her _babagh_, her mother.

The dam shook her finger at her sons, her other hand planted on her hip. "You take care of my daughter, understand?"

"_Babagh_, please," groaned Ardik's youngest brother, Zutuk. He was only two years older than her—he'd been just barely past his first kill when the war took him away. His horns were still growing in, though they curled from his forehead well toward the back of his neck.

"We will." This from the eldest, Gorad. "She is safe with us, _Babagh_, don't worry."

"You know I don't like her going with you at all," their mothersaid. "But your _ushnark_, old fool, wants to parade her around in front of all the young rams in hopes that one of them will offer to marry her."

"_Babagh!_" Ardik cried, embarrassed. But it was true. She was fifteen, the age when young Urgals were considered old enough to mate. And potential suitors were thin on the ground. At least they existed; the war had not been over for long enough to forget the lonely, frightening years during which every able-bodied Urgal male had been absent, fighting in the humans' war. Too many dams had lost their mates, and too many unattached males were killed before they could take a mate at all. There were not enough rams for every young female reaching womanhood to find a mate. Ardik supposed she was lucky that the method her father had chosen to show her off as a potential bride was also something she longed for.

The Tribal Gathering was a great celebration to honor the Urgals' newfound treaty with the humans, which gave them greater freedom and lands to call their own. Most exciting of all, the human Dragon Rider, Eragon Shadeslayer, had somehow made it so that Urgals could become Dragon Riders, too. At this celebration, their race's first dragon egg would be on display. Strong young rams were called from every tribe to touch the egg, to allow it to test them. Everyone hoped that the worthy one, the first Urgal Dragon Rider, would be from their tribe, earning them respect and honor among all other tribes.

This, and not the prospect of finding an eligible mate, was why Ardik was so happy to go. She had prayed for many nights that Rahna would make one of her own brothers worthy, so that the dragon would choose one of them. What would it be like to touch a dragon's egg? What would it be like to touch a _living dragon_?

"Keep close to your brothers," her mother lectured, hands firm on Ardik's shoulders. "Don't let them lose you, and don't let any strangers lure you away. I do not trust some of those rough types. The war—"

"_Babagh_, we beg you, no more about the war," said Korzesh, the middle brother. "And no more about Ardik's marriage prospects. We must go, or we won't reach the Gathering by nightfall."

Their mother embraced Ardik, smothering her in the coarse homespun fabric of her garment. "Be safe," she ordered them.

Ardik wriggled against her mother's grip, and was turned loose. She backed away until she was out of her mother's reach, then waved and smiled before turning to follow her brothers.

"I'd forgotten what it's like to be under a woman's thumb," said Zutuk, as soon as they were out of earshot. "I can't decide if it's unpleasant or not."

Gorad laughed. "Best get used to it, brother," he said. "When you start your own hearth, it'll be your mate nagging you instead of your mother." Gorad was the only brother who had a mate and cubs. Korzesh had been promised to someone before the war, but while he was away, the girl had taken ill and died. He and Zutuk were very popular now; they were among only a handful of unattached young rams left in Ardik's home village.

Ardik quickened her pace to keep up with her brothers. None of them had been born Kull, but they were all used to marching at punishing paces, and all of them were much stronger than she was. Her muscles were soft, unused to exercise. It wasn't that she was weak—while the rams were away fighting in the war, she'd been forced to learn how to hunt, as well as weaving and cooking and all the other chores traditionally given to females. But using a bow once in awhile didn't do much to improve her stamina, and she was soon panting.

Gorad noticed first. "Slow down," he ordered the other two. "Ardik, are you having trouble keeping up?"

"A little," she admitted.

He cast a critical glance over her clothes. "Those sandals are not proper traveling shoes," he said. "And your skirt will only slow you."

"Sandals are good enough for people who aren't warriors," Ardik fired back. "Don't worry about me. I'll try not to hold you back."

"No, we'll slow down," said Zutuk. "I forgot you aren't used to marching like we are, little sister."

"We'll be late to the Gathering," grumbled Gorad. But he did slow his pace enough that Ardik could keep up without exhausting herself. She was careful not to complain again; it shamed her that her brothers might see her as a weakling.

The Tribal Gathering was held in the village of the Bolvek tribe. It was not far away by Urgal standards; it would take a human traveling on foot many days to get there, but a healthy Urgal, running, could make it in a single day. Their strides were longer than humans, and their race had naturally better stamina. Even a young female like Ardik could easily outdistance an average human.

They arrived just after nightfall on the first day of the festival. The village teemed with Urgralgra people. Campfires were lit everywhere for those who were not invited by the village's inhabitants to sleep inside their homes; but no one showed signs of bedding down yet. The sound of drunken carousing could be heard even before the village came into view through the trees. Drums pounded a catching rhythm, and someone's lone flute trilled a faint melody. Young rams were dancing in the firelight with flocks of overexcited females. Older rams played chance games and drank the strong wine that the Bolvek tribe was famed for. Ardik spotted a Kull shaman doing magic tricks for a gaggle of cubs: the ram, face streaked with ceremonial blue paint, held a pile of acorns in his cupped hands. One by one they each rose into the air and floated into the waiting palms of the children. They squealed and begged for another trick, but the ram—his painted face highlighted eerily by firelight—shook his head and shooed them toward the chanter telling stories at the next fire.

Ardik edged toward the dancers. It had been so long since anyone had danced in her home village, and even longer since she had been allowed to join in… but Gorad snagged her neatly by the collar, holding her back. "Don't wander off," he said firmly.

"_Ushnark_ wishes me to flirt with the young rams, doesn't he?" Ardik said saucily.

Zutuk laughed. Gorad just glared and said, "You may join the dancing tomorrow. Right now, we must find a place to camp, and I don't want to lose you in this crowd."

"Who died and made you my _ushnark_?" Ardik grumbled. Her father was easier to manipulate than Gorad, she thought; he was rough with his sons, but had a soft spot for his only daughter. Gorad, on the other hand, had just come home to a rowdy eight-year-old male cub, and a toddling girl who hadn't even been born yet when he was called away. He probably needed all the fathering practice he could get.

So she decided to let him get away with bossing her around, and followed her three brothers away from the celebrations.

* * *

><p>Korzesh shook her awake the next morning to tell her that the dragon's egg had been brought out to display, and the three of them were going to join the queue of rams waiting to be tested.<p>

"I want to come with you," Ardik said immediately.

"They will not allow you to touch the egg," Korzesh warned her.

"I know that." Ardik sighed. She knew that the decision allowing only strong young males to be tested made sense; the first Urgralgra Dragon Rider must be strong and heroic, a legend, to prove the worthiness of the entire race. But she _was_ just a tiny bit disappointed. "I just want to look. And if one of my brothers is chosen, I want to be nearby when it happens."

Korzesh grinned at her. "Silly little sister. You always did like to be in the middle of the excitement." He helped her to her feet and began folding her sleeping mat. "Better fix your hair on the way," he said. "You look like a bird has tried to make a nest on your head."

Ardik trotted after her brothers, arms up over her head as she battled the tangles in her hair. Her horns were still quite short, only reaching halfway over the crown of her head, and she was still getting used to arranging her hair around them. At last she managed to get the whole blue-black mass tightly braided, and she used the bone ornament her granddam had given her to secure the coiled plait at the back of her head. It was a simple style, but she had no time (or patience) for anything fancier.

She was still wearing her travel clothes from yesterday, and wished her brothers had seen fit to wake her sooner so that she might have changed. They had changed their own apparel, combed and greased their hair into long horsetails, and polished their horns. They were pretending that this was all a big joke to them, but Ardik could see that they each secretly hoped to be chosen as the new Rider.

She looked at each of them in turn: responsible, steady Gorad, playful Zutuk, and strong Korzesh. Rahna had smiled upon them, sparing them from death so that they might return victorious from the war. One of them, surely, must be worthy!

They reached the center of the village, where a small raised platform had been built. One Kull, the chosen protector of the egg, stood upon it, holding the dragon's egg in both his large hands. A long queue of rams stretched away from the platform, and a crowd of spectators stood watching as each ram stepped up, laid his hand on the egg, and waited a moment, then was told to move along.

Ardik's eyes were immediately drawn to the egg in the Kull's hands. It shone like the morning sun on the surface of a still lake. Its color was a beautiful deep violet, and though it looked very small in the hands of the eight-foot-tall Kull, she guessed it was at least as long as her forearm.

_They say the color of the egg reflects the color of the dragon's scales_, she thought, and was swept away for a moment by the image of a dragon with a whole hide of that shining purple.

"Are you coming or aren't you?" Gorad called over his shoulder. Ardik ran to catch up, but found herself staring over her shoulder at the egg. She craned her neck until there were too many people in the way to see it properly, and even then she kept looking in that direction, hoping to catch another glimpse of its jewel-like sheen.

"Typical female," said Zutuk, laughing. "Like magpies, it only takes something flashy to get their attention."

"If you know so much about females, Zutuk, why haven't you snared one?" Ardik said.

Zutuk made a face at her.

They waited for several hours to get close to the egg, but at last it was the brothers' turn to be tested. Ardik was made to go and wait with the spectators—"What's a little girl doing in the line, anyhow?"—but she stayed right at the front of the crowd, watching eagerly as Gorad touched the egg first.

It didn't take long for the Kull, the egg-bearer, to shake his head.

Korzesh went next. His hand hovered nervously over the egg for a moment before he lowered it, gingerly, to the smooth surface. The Kull waited for a long moment before shaking his head.

_Oh, Zutuk, please Rahna, let it be him,_ Ardik prayed desperately. Gorad and Korzesh had come over to join her, and she slipped her hands into theirs. They were normally not demonstrative of their brotherly affection, but this once they allowed it.

Zutuk stepped up, chin raised confidently, and placed his palm on the egg's shell.

Two heartbeats, Four. Six.

The Kull shook his head.

"Ah, no!" Ardik cried aloud. Her disappointment was instant and bitter. Her brothers had not been deemed worthy enough. They would not be the companion of the purple dragon. And she would likely never get to meet it.

This last thought, more than anything, fueled her disappointment. She had not realized how much she had been counting on a chance to meet the dragon inside that egg, until the possibility was forever snatched away.

"It's all right, Ardik," said Korzesh, patting her shoulder. "There are many rams, and only one dragon egg. Our chances were never very great."

Ardik said nothing. She couldn't possibly explain what she was feeling; her brothers would probably think she was foolish for even imagining such things.

They stayed for awhile to watch as more and more rams touched the egg. Some were rejected immediately, some stood there for a long time before the Kull sent them away. Ardik began to play a game, counting the seconds that each ram's hand lingered on the egg. With one young fellow, an adolescent male too young to have fought in the war, she counted all the way to fifteen. But in the end, he too was rejected.

Ardik wondered if the Kull was somehow sensing the wishes of the dragon inside. Was that possible? Would it take special powers to be able to do it?

"I'm getting bored," Zutuk said after awhile. "Ardik, let's go find something to eat."

"No, I want to stay here," she said, eyes still fixed on the egg. "What if it hatches while we're gone?"

"Eggs take a long time to hatch," said Gorad. "It won't just burst out of the shell. We'll know if the Rider is chosen from the shouts and cheers, and we'll be able to run back in time to see it hatch."

But Ardik was still reluctant to leave, and even when they convinced her to come away, she was jittery and anxious all through their meal. Any second, she expected to hear the cries of celebration as the dragon chose its new Rider.

Gorad glared at her, saying, "Settle down, Ardik." But she couldn't. She had barely stuffed the last piece of dried meat into her mouth before she leaped up and ran to rejoin the spectators.

Her brothers tried to stay close by, but they were already bored of the whole process. Eventually, they ordered her not to wander off and then went to join a hunting party to help feed the masses. Ardik barely even noticed they were gone.

As the testing dragged on, she managed to tear her eyes from the purple stone to examine its bearer. She wondered why he had been chosen for the task, and then realized that she had seen him the night before, doing magic tricks for the children. He had washed off his shaman's body paint since then, but there was no doubt: this Kull was a magic user.

Was that how he sensed the dragon's wishes? Was that why they had entrusted him with the egg's safety?

The sun set, and it began to get dark. Ardik had been standing there nearly the whole day, but she was neither bored nor tired. Even when the Kull egg-bearer stepped down from the platform and put the egg into its carrying pouch, signaling the end of that day's testing, she lingered and followed after him. The rest of the crowd was dispersing, wandering toward the smells of roasting meat; Ardik was hungry, but she ignored the growling of her stomach. She had to stay close to the egg.

She thought that the Kull had not noticed her, but as he approached his campsite, he stopped and turned around. "Why are you following me, girl?" he asked.

"Might I—might I please see the egg again?" The request was too bold, and if she'd been thinking straight she might have held it back. But once it was out, she couldn't deny that it was her most desperate wish.

"No," said the Kull shortly. "It has been on display all day. You were there for much of that time."

So he had noticed her. Ardik was surprised; the way he'd stared straight ahead, eyes focused on nothing in particular, she would have expected him to be blind to the crowd gathered around him.

"Please," Ardik begged.

"This egg is not a decoration or a toy," the ram said. "There is a living being inside it, a creature who is aware and intelligent."

"I _know_," Ardik cried, frustrated. How could she explain that it was the creature, not the mere shell, who drew her so?

For a moment, it seemed he did understand, and his expression softened a little. But then he said, "I cannot. I am sorry," and turned away.

Ardik made one last, desperate grab, and managed, just barely, to touch the leather bag with her fingertips. She felt the hard smoothness of the stone through the leather, and thought she could even feel the gray veins that marbled its surface.

Then she was on the ground, the Kull's hand at her throat, pinning her. "Do not try that again," he growled.

"I—" she choked. "I—w-wasn't—going to steal it."

"You should not have even touched it," he said, and there was an angry light in his eyes. "That privilege is only for strong males who have proved themselves in battle."

Ardik tried to say that she was sorry, but the words wouldn't come—and not only because of the Kull's chokehold. She _wasn't_ sorry. Maybe she had acted rudely, foolishly, but something about that egg made her want to be near it. To touch it. She didn't think she was wrong in obeying that impulse.

The ram released her, and muttered an apology as she gasped and rubbed her throat. "Go away now," he said.

So she went, reluctantly, and found her brothers feasting and drinking wine. They carved her off a piece of the deer they were turning on a spit, poured her a drink—well watered down, of course—and then went back to flirting with females and telling rude jokes with other young rams.

Ardik stayed aloof from their celebrations. She could not get the dragon's egg out of her head. No, not the egg, but the dragon itself—a great winged beast with huge claws and fangs, covered in an armor of glittering purple scales. It would be as beautiful as it was dangerous.

"Ah, come, Ardik," Zutuk said, nudging her jovially. "Not still sad about us getting rejected, are you? We're in good company, mind—half the rams here have had the same treatment. Seems the dragon is a picky little beast."

"I'm all right," said Ardik, distantly. As she had hoped, this was enough to make her brother lose interest and go back to smiling at a pretty maiden who was pouring wine.

She was so lost in thought that she didn't sense the Kull's presence until his hand fell heavy on her shoulder. She startled, and whirled around with a little scream.

"Girl," said the egg-bearer, his face grim as death. "You must come with me."

As she stood to follow him, he thrust something into her arms. It took Ardik a few moments to realize that it was the egg's carrying pouch, with the egg still inside.

And it was shaking.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"I don't understand," Gorad said, talking over Ardik's head to the Kull egg-bearer. "What is going on?"

"How can it be _her?_" shouted a bystander, an ugly fellow with badly scarred horns. "She is a mere cub! Surely you made a mistake, egg-bearer. It must have chosen one of us earlier, and delayed its reaction."

"There is no mistake," the Kull said, looming over the speaker until he backed away. "I felt the dragon's mind stir when she brushed against it. He has chosen this little girl."

It occurred to Ardik to be indignant about the way they were talking as if she wasn't there, but she was too dazed to really care. The leather had slipped away, and now she held the trembling egg in her arms, like a baby. Its vibrations were fitful and not yet violent enough to crack the shell; but the dragon was unmistakably awake and stirring.

"It is a male?" she murmured, glancing up at the egg-bearer.

His whole expression radiated disapproval, but he nodded curtly.

Ardik felt strangely like a mother about to give birth, about to meet her child for the first time. The egg shuddered again, and from within came a faint scratching. She stroked the smooth shell. "It's all right, _myka_, my darling," she said.

"What—what should we do?" Zutuk was pacing in confusion, a little drunk and full of nervous energy. "Should we—alert the Herndall, or—"

"I imagine it has been done," said the egg-bearer. "Come, little girl. There will be a great crowd very soon. We will go inside."

"Inside where?" Ardik didn't know anyone in the Bolvek village. "And please don't call me _little girl!_ I have a name. It's Ardik of the Zrakhen tribe."

The egg-bearer nodded, then looked at her three brothers, hovering around her in a mixture of confusion and annoyance and protective instinct. "These are your kin?"

"My brothers," Ardik said. "I won't go anywhere without them."

"Very well." The ram paused, then said, "I am Zharkesh of the Bolvek tribe. Now that the dragon has chosen to hatch for you, it is my responsibility to keep you both safe until you can travel to the Queen of the elves, she who will train you to be a Dragon Rider."

"The Queen of the elves?" Ardik repeated, and found herself laughing. She clapped her hand over her mouth, because now was not the time to go hysterical, but _really!_ It was too absurd, too surreal. An Urgal entering the domain of the elves? No Urgal had _ever_ been there, as far as she knew. The elves weren't exactly their enemies, but they found Ardik's people ugly and barbaric, and for the most part they shunned the company of Urgralgra.

As for the Urgals, the dislike was mutual. No one liked being told they were ugly barbarians, especially not by skinny, hornless, pale-pink beings that looked like distorted imitations of _real_ people.

The Kull, Zharkesh, led Ardik and her brothers to the hut where the Herndall held court. It was fortunately not so late that those esteemed dams had already retired to bed; they were wide awake and had already been told that the egg was hatching.

Ardik quailed a little before the great leaders of her race. They were very old, much older than her granddam, and they had a way of looking at her that felt like being pierced from twelve directions at once.

"She is very young," said one of them in evident surprise. She was white-haired, her horns crumbling from age, but her yellow eyes were sharp and canny.

"So it did not want a strong warrior after all," another said. Her eyes were filmed over with white, though she still turned her face in Ardik's direction as if examining her. "I thought as much, but the rest of you said—"

"And there has been no mistake, Shaman Zharkesh?" This speaker only had a few blackened teeth left, and her gray skin was weathered dark.

"No mistake," said the egg-bearer firmly. "Most wise and noble Herndall, I present Ardik of the Zrakhen tribe, chosen of the dragon. I expect you shall meet her new-hatched companion in a short while."

"Stop speaking for her, poor girl," said the white-haired Herndall. "I think we are right in assuming she has a voice of her own? Come closer, Ardik."

Ardik approached them slowly, trying to act brave. She'd only ever seen the Herndall at a great distance. To be so close to their wrinkled, decrepit faces, close enough to touch their carved staffs and to see the masterful weaving and embroidery on their garments, was terrifying. A great honor, of course, but terrifying nevertheless.

"How soon will it hatch?" the one on the far left asked, nodding at the jittering egg in Ardik's arms.

Ardik stroked its shell. "I do not know," she said, and was embarrassed to hear her voice come out in a faint whisper.

"It will take its time, so I've been told," Zharkesh said. "Several hours, at least."

"Then by dawn we will have a Rider," said the dam closest to Ardik, and reached out to touch the shell with gnarled fingers. Ardik forced herself not to flinch away. "You will stay here until it has hatched. Shaman Zharkesh, see that no one else is allowed inside tonight. Tell them we will present the dragon and its Rider at dawn."

Zharkesh bared his neck in acquiescence, then went outside to talk to the gathering crowd.

"You there, young ram," said the eldest Herndall, the white-haired one. "There are cushions in that chest there. Fetch one for Ardik to sit on."

Zutuk did as he was told without a word. Ardik sneaked a glance at her brothers and saw that they, too, were a bit frightened of the Herndall.

When Ardik had knelt on the cushion, facing the Herndall, the dams directed her brothers to stand by the door and bar any intruders. They were so determined to obey that they almost barred Zharkesh from coming back in, but the dams barked that they were morons, and of _course_ the egg-bearer should witness the hatching.

The Kull was almost too tall for the hut, but rather than finding another cushion, he simply crouched near Ardik in what looked like a very uncomfortable pose. His focus stayed on the egg. Was he monitoring the dragon's movements, making sure nothing went wrong? Was it a possibility that something _would?_ Ardik jumped as the egg gave a particularly violent shake.

"It is all right to put the egg on the floor," Zharkesh said gently.

"Oh!" Ardik's face heated. She laid the egg down in front of her, and clenched her hands in her lap. Suddenly she realized how grubby she must look. Her hair was coming undone, her clothes were dusty, and she needed to bathe. No wonder everyone thought the dragon must have made a mistake.

Apparently the Herndall all thought the same thing, because one of the dams said dryly, "We'd best arrange for better clothes, and a basin of water."

Ardik felt her face flushing deep gray.

"You! See to it," the dam said sharply to Korzesh. "Oh, and have someone bring food for the dragon. Cubs are always hungry when they've just been born."

"Wh-what do dragons eat?" Korzesh asked, looking helplessly at Zharkesh.

"Small strips of meat," said Zharkesh. "I don't think it matters what kind."

So, while the egg rattled and shook against the packed dirt floor of the hut, Ardik was persuaded to wash herself and change her clothes in the curtained corner where the privy hole was dug. She hurried through the task, self-conscious from the lack of privacy. At home, her mother always sent every male out of the hut, even her father, before the women bathed.

She emerged from the curtain wearing a finely woven ceremonial robe. It fit well enough, but Ardik had never worn anything so decorative. She hadn't expected to ever own such a garment, except for the robe she would wear on the day of her marriage feast.

But now she was someone important. That realization was dizzying—she was a _Dragon Rider_. The only Urgralgra Dragon Rider in the world. She wished everyone would go away and let her think about it for awhile, but she was directed to take her place again in front of the egg… and in front of all twelve Herndall.

The wait stretched long into the night. Ardik began to feel tired, and a few of the Herndall dropped off into snores, chin on chest. Still the egg chirped and shuddered and—

_crack._

That noise woke everyone up, even the deeply snoring dams.

"It's breaking apart," Ardik said breathlessly.

"It is almost over," agreed Zharkesh.

More cracks spread from the first one, and the egg's movements became more and more violent, as if the dragon knew it was almost free. Then there was a pause. The egg stilled, everyone held their breath. And, with a final shriek, the egg split into three pieces and the dragon shook itself free.

Ardik forgot to breathe. It—_he_—was so tiny. She'd pictured her dragon as a great, soaring beast, but hadn't thought about what he would look like as a hatchling. The baby dragon seemed weirdly angular and deformed, until she realized he had unfurled his wings, and couldn't figure out how to fold them back against his body. She smiled despite herself and reached out to help him.

Pain ripped through her, and she thought she might have screamed.

When she came to herself again, Zharkesh was supporting her with one arm around her shoulders, the other hand gripping her right wrist.

"He doesn't want me to touch him?" Ardik gasped, crushed.

Zharkesh shook his head. "This is supposed to happen. You have just forged the bond." He held up her hand for her to see. "Look. The silver palm of a Dragon Rider."

Ardik's eyes widened. She flexed her fingers; they still felt a bit numb and tingly, but they moved. She made a fist. The glowing mark on her palm moved like her skin was supposed to, though it itched like a spider bite.

Zharkesh set her upright and pointed her toward the dragon again. The little creature had finally settled its wings against its sides, and was crawling around on new, clumsy legs, surveying the Herndall with interest. The old dams were wide-eyed, returning the dragon's gaze, though they shrank away when it got close enough to touch them.

"Come here, _myka_," Ardik called softly. "Come here, darling."

The dragon turned his head to look at her. He squeaked and tipped his head sideways.

"Do you really think you ought to name a male dragon 'darling'?" Gorad asked from the doorway.

"I—I don't know what else to name a male dragon," said Ardik. Urgals didn't keep pets, so she was not used to naming anything.

"He might wish to name himself when he is older," said Zharkesh. "A baby name will do for now. Can you feel him through the bond, Ardik?"

"Feel him how?" Ardik asked.

Zharkesh tapped his temple, just below the base of his horns. "In here."

Ardik concentrated and became aware of an itch, something like what she felt in her hand, but deep in her head where she could not reach it. She prodded at it with her thoughts, not sure if it was what she was looking for, and opened her eyes to look at the dragon.

He had stopped his travels around the room and was now staring at her. She scratched at the mental itch a little harder, trying to force it to the forefront.

Suddenly she became aware that she was hungry. But, though her own stomach was empty, the hunger was not all hers.

"I think—I think he wants food," she said hesitantly.

Korzesh brought forward the bowl of meat scraps he'd fetched before, and Ardik waved a piece in front of the little dragon. She almost lost a finger as he gulped it down.

"Did I just read his mind?" she asked Zharkesh as she carefully fed the dragon.

"Dragons cannot speak aloud," Zharkesh said. "To communicate with him, you must form a strong mental bond, and speak to him that way. I think this will not be hard to learn. It comes naturally to your dragon, and he will help you."

"Can you read his mind too, then?"

Zharkesh shrugged. "Not the way you will. While he was in the egg, I sensed feelings only. I was his tool, to guide him to his future Rider. Now that he has bonded with you, he does not need me. I will not touch his mind again unless he gives permission."

That didn't seem fair, but Zharkesh assured her it was the way things were done. "Touching another person's mind without permission is very rude," he explained. "The same is true for all races, even dragons."

"Could you read anyone's mind, if you wanted?"

"You ask a lot of questions," said Zharkesh.

"Sorry."

She didn't think he was going to answer, but after a pause he said, "I could read your mind, or anyone else's, if I wanted to. But I won't."

The idea of mind-reading was interesting and a bit scary to Ardik. Shamans often dedicated themselves to the service of their goddess, Rahna, so magicians within Urgal society were seen as wise men, blessed with holy power. But no one really liked to ask exactly what the shamans were capable of. There were stories about shamans going bad, using magic to hurt and control others, and there were even tales of rams who had been taken over by evil spirits and been forced to do horrific things. But the stories of magic being used for evil always circled back to the human king Galbatorix—he who had slain the Dragon Riders of old, he who had enslaved Ardik's race to fight his own battles. That tale only served to underline what Urgal cubs were told from birth: humans could not be trusted. Humans were easily corrupted, seeking power until it destroyed them.

What would it be like to have magical power? Perhaps Ardik herself might learn to master it. After all, both the evil Galbatorix and his killer, Eragon Firesword, had been powerful magic users. Did that mean that it was a skill taught to every Dragon Rider?

She opened her mouth to ask more questions, but Zharkesh cut her off. "Your Myka has had enough food for now, I think," he said. "You must take him away and rest. There are still many hours before dawn, when you will be presented."

"And, after all, we old dams need rest as well," said one of the Herndall, smiling widely enough to display several missing teeth. "You are dismissed for now, Ardik Silverhand, and dragon Darling."

Ardik tipped her head back to bare her throat in respect to the Herndall. She was not sure, but she thought the expressions on those wizened old faces meant they were pleased with her. Or at least with Myka.

"Come here, Myka," she called out, and the dragon—its eyes already drooping sleepily—came to her arms. She almost flinched to touch him again, but there was no backlash this time. His tiny scales were smooth and warm as he crawled into her arms, scratching her skin with his claws. He laid his head down in the crook of her elbow and heaved a deep sigh.

Ardik realized she was grinning stupidly. She gathered the dragon's tail and limbs in and stood up. "Thank you," she said to the old dams, though she wasn't sure why she was thanking them.

Zharkesh put a hand on her shoulder. "Circle round her to keep the dragon from view," he instructed her brothers. "Some may still be awake."

Surrounded on all four sides, guided by the shaman's hand, Ardik was conveyed to another hut, one of those set aside for important visitors. Had another important person been put out because of her? She hated to think so, but was too tired to protest. Zharkesh went away to his own fire, and her brothers stayed only to help her into nightclothes and tuck a warm blanket around her. The dragon still slept in the crook of her arm, which made undressing a challenge.

"You aren't angry, are you?" Ardik asked sleepily. "That the dragon—that he—"

"We're proud, little sister," said Zutuk, messing up her hair like he always did. "Our tribe will be honored because of you."

The others agreed with him, but even in the dim light, Ardik could see that Gorad's face was lined with worry. There would be trouble over this.

Ardik closed her eyes and curled her body protectively around the warm little creature.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Myka, come here. Come _here_."

The purple-scaled hatchling gave her an annoyed glare and squatted in the corner.

"Oh no. No, no, don't do that there!"

It was too late.

"I'm very sorry," Ardik said to Zharkesh, who had come to collect her so that she could be officially presented to the Tribal Gathering. "I'll clean it up, I promise."

Zharkesh was trying very hard not to laugh, the corner of his mouth twitching up. "Tell him to use the privy hole next time he feels the need," he suggested. "Not with the mouth, with the mind. He does not understand our language yet, but he will understand your thoughts."

Ardik scooped up the vaguely guilty hatchling as he scraped the floor with his talons, trying to bury the evidence. "I keep forgetting," she confessed. "How do you know so much, Zharkesh?"

"The elves implanted the knowledge in my mind when I was chosen to carry the egg," the Kull answered. "They could have taken more time to teach me, but my presence was distasteful to them." His face stayed blank of emotion as he said this. Ardik thought she'd have a hard time hiding her anger at the way elves treated their race as lesser. "Come now. Everyone waits to see your Myka."

Ardik touched her hair nervously. She looked her best now, clean and put-together and wearing the fine robe the Herndall had lent her, but all the same, she hoped the focus would be on Myka, not on her.

Zharkesh lifted aside the curtain covering the doorway and ushered her through.

A great chattering crowd lined the way to the central square, and as soon as Ardik stepped outside, every eye was on her. Cubs stood on tiptoe to see, some daring enough to press forward and hold out their hand to touch the tip of Myka's twitching tail. Females craned to see around their mates' horns, and Kull were shoved to the back, where they could see over everyone else's heads.

"The dragon," sighed the crowd. "The dragon, the dragon." Conscious of the crowds, Myka hid his face in Ardik's armpit. She tried to soothe him with her mind, and it must have worked because he soon found his courage. He crawled up her arm to drape around her shoulders, where his whole jewel-bright body would be on display, and made fierce eyes at the gawkers.

For a long moment, every Urgal in the Tribal Gathering was under Myka's spell.

Then a young ram, about the same age as Korzesh, stepped forward to block their path. Gorad made as if to shove him out of the way, but the ram shoved first, sending Ardik's brawny brother stumbling into the crowd.

The stranger roared and beat his chest, puffing himself out, horns lowered—not in greeting or celebration, but as a threat. "I challenge you," he shouted, loud enough for everyone to hear you. "I challenge you for the honor of being this dragon's Rider! You are weak, not worthy. I will face you in single combat, and when I defeat you, the creature's loyalty will belong to me!"

Zutuk growled angrily and put his hands on Ardik's shoulders, backing her up. "You cannot challenge her," he said. "She is not a warrior. She is barely more than a cub!"

The Urgal sneered. "Exactly."

Myka was hissing angrily. He crawled back into the shelter of Ardik's arms, but kept his eyes fixed on the challenger in a baleful stare.

Ardik trembled. People were starting to agree with the stranger—especially other young rams, ones who'd been passed over in the testing. With training, maybe she could beat some of them, but they would never allow the years it took to properly train her as an Urgralgra warrior.

Suddenly, a whole section of the crowd fell silent. As one they clutched their throats, working their mouths in sudden outrage.

"That is enough," said Zharkesh, his voice a low rumble of thunder.

The challenger was shoved back into the crowd. Zutuk propelled Ardik and Myka the rest of the way to the waiting platform, where Zharkesh raised his voice and addressed the whole crowd. Though the quieting spell had been lifted, silence still reigned.

"If any of you," the Kull said, "are foolish enough to challenge the Dragon Rider again, you will very much regret it. The bond between them is magical and cannot be broken. If this girl dies, so will her dragon. Any hurt you inflict on her, the dragon will feel it. If you value the future of our race, the hope this dragon represents to us, you will pledge your loyalty to them both as two halves of a whole creature."

Silence.

"I present to you the first Urgralgra Dragon Rider," Zharkesh said. "Ardik Silverhand of the Zrakhen tribe, and her bonded companion Myka."

Someone scoffed audibly when he announced the dragon's name. There were mutters: "She gives the mighty dragon a little girl's name!" "But of course—she _is_ a little girl."

Ardik felt weak with shame and fear. She'd _known_ there would be trouble. Her brothers were kind enough to hide their disappointment and anger at being passed over for their younger sister, but all those strangers—they weren't so selfless. Why should they be? She was nothing to them but an embarrassment, a slap in the face.

It was sheer stubborn pride that kept her standing there, kept her from bursting into tears and running away. She kept her back straight, her chin low, her eyes straight ahead. Myka clung to her garments with sharp little claws and kept hissing at the crowd, even producing a few crooning little snarls.

"Do you want to address them?" Zharkesh asked in an undertone.

No, she did not, not in the least.

"Yes," she said, and stepped forward, lifting Myka to his former perch on her shoulder.

The crowd hushed, and hundreds of hostile eyes stared. But then, in the front row, Ardik glimpsed a group of cubs huddling together, looking at her not with anger or envy, but with admiration.

"I will make you proud," she said to them, hearing her voice echo across the whole village. Zharkesh was working spells again. "Myka and I, we are not warriors right now. But one day we will be heroes."

Someone in the crowd began to laugh. Soon all the spectators were laughing, a horrible sound like an avalanche of rocks tumbling down the side of a mountain.

Ardik felt her face burning. Myka brushed her cheek with his forehead, and she felt his presence in her mind, conveying annoyance. _How dare those little people ridicule my Rider?_ he seemed to say. It was an absurd sentiment coming from such a tiny hatchling, and Ardik found herself smiling at him. She sensed in him a fierce pride that belonged in a much larger body. With him at her side, those challengers would face a more difficult fight than they thought.

It was this that kept her smiling in the face of their mockery as Zharkesh and her brothers escorted her away.

* * *

><p>"It wasn't all bad," said Korzesh. "Of course all the rams are angry, but the females in that crowd were smiling. And you know the Herndall love you."<p>

"Do they?" Ardik mumbled, dropping another sliver of meat into Myka's waiting jaws. "It's hard to tell."

Korzesh shrugged. "At least they didn't spit on you. Or prod you with those staffs they carry." He rubbed a spot on his hip, and Ardik hid a smile.

Zharkesh had been ignoring them, crouched at the fire stirring a pot of rabbit stew. Now he turned around and said, "I don't mean to discourage, but even if all that is true, Ardik cannot stay here."

"Of course not," said Gorad. "We're taking her home tonight—we'll leave after everyone has gone to bed."

"That is not what I meant," said the shaman. "She cannot go home, either. Ardik must travel to the elf city Ellesméra. She must begin her training with the elf queen as soon as possible. She will be safest in the care of her fellow Rider."

"Must I go right away?" Ardik asked. Distracted by the conversation, she dropped a piece of meat on the floor instead of into Myka's mouth. He uttered a squeak of protest and lowered his head to snap it up.

"There is no point in wasting time," Zharkesh said.

Ardik paused with a handful of meat scraps. Myka squeaked for her attention, but she ignored him. "I want to see my parents before I go," she said. "Can't I say goodbye to them?"

"If you think it is necessary." But Zharkesh obviously didn't like it.

Her brothers had other concerns. "This elf city is very far away," Gorad said. "You will have to travel through human territory, and our treaty with their leaders will not stop the human peasants from trying to kill you. You will take guards to protect her, won't you?"

"I am able to keep us hidden and protected," Zharkesh said. "But if you fear for Ardik's safety, I would be glad to take one of her own brothers as a guard."

"I will go," said Gorad immediately.

"No, Gorad!" Ardik said. "Your mate and cubs are already missing you. Let Korzesh or Zutuk go."

Gorad argued that it was his place as eldest brother, and really it should be their _ushnark_ who went, but he was overruled. Their father had lost a leg in the war and would never make the journey. Korzesh, as next-oldest, claimed the duty of guarding her.

"We will leave tonight," the Kull said. "I think it best if we get used to traveling at night and hiding ourselves in the day."

Ardik couldn't help but be grateful that they were taking steps to avoid humans. They were the monsters her mother had threatened her with as a child, the force that had stolen her father and brothers and killed half the males in her village. Even if Myka was the size of a house, she'd still be wary of their deception and evil cunning.

"You're quiet, little sister," said Zutuk. "Are you willing to follow the shaman to the elf city? If this is against your will, we won't make you do it."

It wasn't what she would have chosen, that was true; but Ardik knew she'd given up her old future, marriage and cubs and weaving a hearth-rug, the moment that egg started to shake. Her future was Myka's now, and he belonged with his own kind. With the other dragon, the one bonded to the elf queen.

"If this is what is best for Myka," she said, "then it is what I want."

And that settled it.

* * *

><p>They reached Ardik's home village the next morning, by which time Ardik was so tired she could barely stand. She let her brothers explain to their mother about the dragon and went to her sleeping mat without a word. She sensed her parents hovering over her sleeping figure, staring at the dragon curled in the curve of her body, but they did not try to wake her.<p>

When she became aware again, it was early evening, and her brothers were cooking supper (a fresh deer carcass) on a spit over the fire-pit in the yard. Gorad's mate was helping their mother grind herbs to season the meat, and Ardik's niece and nephew were staring at Zharkesh as he whistled to a bird that perched boldly on his horns.

And Myka! The silly hatchling had crawled out of her embrace and was now exploring the hut, annoying her _babagh_, who kept scolding him for getting into things he shouldn't.

"Finally you're awake," said her mother when Ardik went over to catch him. "That beast ate half my dried herbs before I could stop him."

Myka gave a garlic-scented sneeze.

"Supper is almost ready," her mother went on, as if a baby dragon terrorized her hut every day. "Wash your face, and go tell the cubs to wash too."

Ardik was nonplussed by her mother's reaction—or lack of reaction—to the fact that her only daughter was now a Dragon Rider. She supposed Zharkesh must have explained things while she was asleep, and her parents had all day to get used to the idea. Still, she expected at least one good scold from her mother. _Babagh_ had an endless store of rebukes, lectures, and reprimands.

"Don't bring him outside," Zutuk called from the fire-pit, as soon as Ardik stepped in the doorway. "The whole village has heard by now, and unless you want a hundred curious eyes watching you, you'd best keep him in the hut."

Ardik put Myka down. _Stay inside_, she thought firmly. _And don't pee on the floor. Use the bucket._ She thought hard about the privy bucket's location, in case he hadn't found it yet, and then went to call in the cubs.

* * *

><p>"Safe travels," said Ardik's father, leaning heavily on the carved staff that helped him keep his balance with his peg leg. "Don't get to be too much like the elves, now, daughter."<p>

"Maybe I'll make them more like the Urgralgra," said Ardik, grinning up at him.

Her _ushnark_ chucked her under the chin, which was about as affectionate as he ever got. "And you," he said to Korzesh, "keep her out of trouble, and don't go into battle drunk."

Korzesh went dark gray. "That was _one time_," he said.

"And you almost lost an eye. Sharpened your battle-axe?"

"Shaman Zharkesh plans to hide us the whole way. I might not even need it." But her brother's voice betrayed longing. The besetting flaw of every Urgal male was their battle-lust. Even in peacetime they craved a good fight. Females were less susceptible to this madness—_thank Rahna for that_, Ardik thought. If they weren't there to be the voice of reason, their race would have killed itself off a long time ago.

"But you did sharpen it, yes?"

"Yes," Korzesh admitted.

"Good boy." Last, Ardik's _ushnark_ turned to glare at Zharkesh. "Keep care of my daughter, young ram," he said, managing to look fierce even though Zharkesh towered over him by at least two feet. "They trusted you with that dragon, so you must be worth something. But if I hear you've let my girl get hurt, I'll—"

"No need to threaten him, _Ushnark_," Ardik said. "_Babagh_ did that already." And then she'd hugged Ardik within an inch of her life; Ardik thought she might have preferred the death threats.

"It isn't like I'm going away forever," she'd tried to explain. "I'll come back as soon as my training is over." But her mother held on like she'd never see her again. And the more Ardik thought about her future, the more she worried that her parents were right. Who knew where Myka would lead her? Maybe she _would_ become like an elf, a cold, distant creature that cared nothing for her humble beginnings.

"We must go," said Zharkesh, adjusting the strap of the large pack on his back. Ardik's mother had somehow found time to pack them enough food and supplies to feed an army, and being a Kull, Zharkesh got stuck carrying most of it. Ardik's pack was smaller, and mostly filled with clothes.

"Goodbye," Ardik said, first to her father, then to her mother's back (_Babagh_ had turned away to weep), and finally to Gorad and his cubs.

_I will come back_, she said to herself. _I will_.

She lifted Myka onto her shoulders and followed Zharkesh and Korzesh into the gathering dusk.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"How did you learn to do magic?" Ardik asked, staring up at the glowing werelight that Zharkesh had conjured. It was hard not to be distracted by the bobbing blue-white sphere. She'd already tripped twice.

It was the third day of their journey, and she probably should have been used to it by now; but the magic both fascinated and alarmed her. She was only just now overcoming her shyness around Zharkesh. The shaman didn't use his power unless it was needed, but she got the feeling he was capable of a lot more than he let on.

"The shaman of the Bolvek tribe who came before me—Akzad was his name—recognized some natural ability in me," Zharkesh answered. "He took me from my home tribe to be his apprentice, and taught me how to control it."

"Then you were not born a Bolvek?"

"Shaman Akzad's daughter and her mate adopted me when I was six years old," said Zharkesh, "and I do not remember being part of any other family. I was not born a Bolvek, but my loyalty belongs to them."

Ardik knew it was rude to ask such personal questions, but she couldn't help her curiosity. "Do you ever get to see your real family?"

The Kull was silent for a long time, and she thought he might not answer. Then he said, "I think my true mother is dead. Shaman Akzad told me she was deathly sick when he took me away, else she might not have let me go. It has been fifteen years since then… if I have siblings, they would never recognize me, nor I them."

Ardik counted surreptitiously on her fingers. Zharkesh was younger than she had thought. If he was adopted at age six and had been a Bolvek fifteen years, then he was just twenty-one—no older than Korzesh. His stern manner, not to mention his Kull-blood height, were misleading.

Still, she didn't dare cross him. Especially after she'd seen him steal the voices from near a hundred people with no visible effort.

Her eyes strayed back to the werelight. "Will I learn how to do that?" she asked. "In my Rider training, I mean?"

"I do not know," said Zharkesh. "The elves gave me what knowledge I would need to care for your dragon and bring you safely to them. Whatever comes after that, they chose to keep it secret."

"Will _you_ teach me?"

"I—I don't know if I am allowed," Zharkesh said. He seemed surprised by the question. "I am only supposed to pass on my knowledge to an apprentice, when the time is right…"

"Oh." Ardik sighed.

"And besides," he added, "it is very difficult to teach. Without natural ability, it may be impossible for you to ever learn."

"How do I know if I have natural ability?" Ardik wanted to know.

"I have no idea," Zharkesh confessed with a small smile. "My teacher never told me. I never thought to ask."

"Sorry if I'm annoying you with all these questions," Ardik said sheepishly. "It's keeping Myka awake, at least. He doesn't like sleeping during the day and waking at night."

"You're keeping me awake, too," Korzesh grumbled from behind them. "And probably scaring off all the game in the whole forest."

"This isn't a hunting expedition, Korzesh," Ardik said.

"No, but we've got to eat!"

Ardik walked backwards for a moment so that she could cross her eyes at her brother, and almost tripped for the third time.

"Watch your path," said Zharkesh mildly, catching her elbow to steady her. "And if you truly want to learn magic, the first thing you must do is master your own mind. Magic words mean nothing without power behind them, and power comes from within." He glanced at the dragon, who was drowsing on Ardik's shoulders. "Talking to Myka will help you become aware of your mind. From there, you might learn to access your own energy. It took me many years of meditation to learn, but I did not have a dragon to guide me."

"So there _are _magic words!" Ardik had seen him mumbling to himself when he did magic tricks for cubs, but could not guess what he was actually saying.

"There is a whole magic language, the Ancient Language once spoken by every creature on the earth. The elves still speak it among themselves."

This was a strange and alarming concept. "But then—don't they have a problem with accidentally doing spells when they talk to each other?"

Zharkesh laughed. "They can control their power, keep it turned off when they are having a normal conversation. Though I am told that when they speak in the magic language, they are unable to tell a lie."

Ardik frowned. "It sounds inconvenient."

The shaman grinned, and the shadows from the werelight above them made him look rather diabolical. "That is the elf culture in a word," he said. Then, returning to his usual serious demeanor, "I think I ought to teach you some of the magic language. I doubt that very many elves know how to speak our tongue."

"Did you talk to them in the magic language when you met them?"

"They knew I was a shaman, but they seemed not to realize I would know their words," said Zharkesh. "We spoke in the human tongue. The evil king implanted his language in every warrior's mind so that we would understand his commands; it has been useful, but the words are not pleasant to the ear."

"Say something in their language," Ardik said.

Zharkesh thought, then spoke a sentence. Its sound was softer than the Urgals' guttural language, running together in some places and punctuated here and there by short consonants.

"Bleh," said Zharkesh, sticking out his tongue. "It tastes slimy, their language."

"What did you say?"

"I said, 'Take the prisoners away and chop off their heads.'"

Ardik giggled. "Of course _that_ sounds awful! Say something else, something nice."

"There was never a need to say anything nice in their language," Korzesh said darkly.

Zharkesh quietly said another string of hissing, slurring human words.

"What does that mean?"

"It means, 'The dragon's scales are like a king's robe, studded with jewels.'"

Ardik smiled and stroked Myka's tail. "Did _that_ taste slimy?"

"It sounds too sick-sweet for my ears," Korzesh said, unwilling to praise anything remotely connected to humans. "Leave poems to elf-kind. We Urgralgra have no need for pretty words."

"Speaking of elf-kind," said Zharkesh, and then he said something else. This time it sounded different.

"What is that?"

"That is the magic language—what the elves say to greet each other." Zharkesh said it again. "_Atra esterní ono thelduin_. I think it means something about being ruled by luck; I am not good with words that aren't spells. I learned it from listening to them talk among themselves when we camped together during the war."

Ardik struggled to repeat the phrase. "Atra—esssstarni—it is like a tongue-twister!"

"You have a long time to practice," said Zharkesh. "And I will give you some spell-words that are easier to say." He glanced at Myka. "The dragon is asleep again."

"Little slugbones," said Ardik, craning to see where Myka's head rested. "He'll be fluttering around all day while _we_ try to sleep." She jostled the hatchling with a shrug of her shoulder. "I should make you walk, that's what I should do, silly darling."

"He's growing already," Zharkesh observed. "In a week or two, he'll be too big to carry. Soon he'll fly circles around us."

The dragon blinked sleepily and sent her an image of flapping his wings, making it a little off the ground and then crash-landing.

"He says he can't fly yet," Ardik translated without thinking.

"Good! You are learning to talk to him!"

"Not talk, really," said Ardik. "He just—told me." She shook her head in irritation, knowing that was a poor explanation, but Zharkesh seemed to understand.

"Words will come in time," he advised. "He is still a baby. No infant comes into the world speaking fluently. You are lucky he can communicate with you at all; if he were an Urgralgra cub, he would only know how to cry loudly."

"Ugh," said Korzesh, and shuddered.

* * *

><p>They had made good time traveling north through the Spine; now, they left the forest and began to cut across human territory. Outside of the trees, Ardik suddenly felt exposed, endangered. Though there were many predators in the Spine, bears and wolves and mountain cats, there were few animals hungry enough to bother three Urgals. Humans, now—they were a different story.<p>

They kept to the dark places and stayed away from human roads, but even at night, it was inevitable that they'd meet someone. Their first night out of the Spine, they stumbled upon a group of human travelers who had camped out for the night. Their watchman shouted them awake, and before Ardik's group had time to react, they faced five men pointing arrows and swords at them.

Korzesh reached for his battle-axe, but Zharkesh stopped him and spoke to the humans in their own tongue. He lifted his chin to bare his neck to them, and raised empty hands in the universal sign for "I mean no harm." Ardik didn't understand what he said, or what they responded, but she could tell from their reaction that they mistrusted him, and were only looking for a good reason to kill.

These were the first humans she had seen up close. She peered around Korzesh, who protected her with his body, and studied them. Two were young, with no hair on their face. They reminded Ardik of worms, thin and pink. The other three were older and bearded, one of them thicker around the middle. Urgals grew hair only on their head, and the idea of face-fur was so ridiculous that Ardik actually giggled.

The noise drew the humans' attention. They pointed to her and said something, and then one of them gasped. Ardik realized belatedly that Myka had woken, and was now eyeing the humans with the same amused interest.

One of the younger human men stepped forward, brandishing his sword, speaking fiercely. Zharkesh responded, using his greater height and stronger build to advantage as he loomed over the man. He carried no weapon, as far as Ardik could see, but the armed human backed off.

"What are they saying?" she whispered to Korzesh.

Korzesh murmured, "They think you have stolen Myka from his Rider. Zharkesh is trying to convince them that you _are _Myka's Rider."

"And they don't believe him?"

"They say…" Korzesh sighed. "They say it is impossible for an Urgal to be a Dragon Rider. That it is against the fabric of nature."

Ardik frowned. "We'll see about that." She darted out from behind her brother and held out her right hand, palm forward. The silver mark would be clearly visible, even in the dim light from the humans' campfire.

She moved too quickly, and the humans flinched back. She held her ground, hoping they wouldn't panic and fire arrows at her. And, as she'd hoped, they saw the mark and began exclaiming loudly.

Ardik retreated again. "Now what do they say?" she asked her brother.

"You shouldn't be so reckless," said Korzesh sternly. "They might have shot you where you stand, and you wear no armor."

"But what are they saying?"

"They believe that you are Myka's Rider now," said Korzesh. "But they still think that such a pairing is, what is the word, an abomination. They mean to try to kill you and take Myka." He tensed, and Ardik saw that he—like the humans—was waiting for any excuse to attack.

"They won't kill her," Zharkesh said, reverting to an understandable tongue. "I can kill these five single-handed, and I will if they try anything. I hoped I would not have to."

"Hah!" Korzesh snarled. "If they thought they could survive it, they'd have killed us already. Why the sudden show of mercy?"

Zharkesh didn't answer.

"Ardik, you should get away from here," Korzesh muttered. "I will deal with the humans."

"No!" The Kull shaman's voice was harsh. "They will not die today."

"Are you a warrior or aren't you?" Korzesh demanded. He hefted his battle-axe. The humans shouted, and suddenly all the arrows were aimed at him.

"No!" Ardik cried.

Then Zharkesh spoke a word, and without being told, Ardik knew it was from the magic language. Unlike before, when the words of the magic language had just been strange sounds, this word carried power. The sound of it rolled from the shaman's tongue and pulled a dense white fog up from the ground. Within moments, it had drowned them all in damp, earth-smelling darkness. Ardik was totally blind—and so, from the shouts of confusion around her, were the humans.

A hand gripped her shoulder. "Ardik?" Korzesh asked. "Is that you?"

"Yes."

"Quiet." Zharkesh had joined them. His hand closed around Ardik's upper arm and he began to lead her away. Korzesh protested; apparently he, too, was being led by the hand.

"Make no noise," Zharkesh said, to quiet her brother's yelping. "They can see nothing, but they can still hear. We must get away quickly; the mist will only last for a few minutes."

"We shouldn't be running away," Korzesh complained, still in a whisper. "This is cowardly—using a shaman's tricks to hide our retreat."

"I will argue with you later," said Zharkesh, in his sternest no-nonsense tone. Korzesh quieted.

When they were far enough away, and the mist had long faded, the shaman let go of both their arms and faced Korzesh, who still held his battle-axe.

Deadly calm, he said, "If you ever call me a coward again, you are going to regret it."

"Then don't act like one," Korzesh snarled. His teeth were bared, his long canines on full display. Ardik backed up. She'd seen her brothers wrestle and fight in jest, but rarely did they display real aggression in front of her.

"You young rams," Zharkesh said contemptuously. (Korzesh drew himself up in outrage.) "All of you are the same—living battle to battle until one day you are killed. Can you not see there is a time and a place?" He gestured at Ardik. "The dragon we protect, and the Dragon Rider, are symbols of the peace between all races. If we, their guards, kill everyone in our path, we spit in the face of everything their bond stands for."

"Then the Dragon Riders are symbols of cowardice?"

Zharkesh seemed to grow even taller. Myka squeaked and crawled into Ardik's arms for cover.

"Every race in Alagaësia thinks we are savages," Zharkesh said. "The worst of it is, they are not completely wrong. By giving us the egg, they gave us the chance to prove we can be more than fighting machines—that we can be respected in this land."

"Really," Korzesh said, taking a two-handed grip on his axe. "I heard that Firesword only gave us the egg as a bribe for us not to attack. The humans are weakest now, while they rebuild from the war. They are afraid we will attack and take over everything they own. They are afraid of seeing us rule this land as we deserve!"

"Don't be a fool!" Zharkesh roared. "Are we not even weaker than they are? Half our able-bodied rams are dead, and even more crippled. Already there are too many widows. If we attack the humans, or if they attack us, neither race will survive."

Ardik had had enough of their argument. "Korzesh, put away your battle-axe," she said loudly. "I agree that we should not kill anyone unless it is necessary. Let's stop arguing now, before they come after us and it _becomes_ necessary."

"What would you know," Korzesh sneered. "You're just a girl."

She was used to years of this sort of comment from her brothers, but it still stung. "I'm _just _the Dragon Rider," Ardik said. "And I've half a mind to tell _Babagh _to tan your backside when we get home." That was a silly thing to say, considering she wouldn't see her mother for a very long time, but the threat seemed to work. Korzesh put up his battle-axe and, with a final glare at Zharkesh, stalked on ahead.

"East, Korzesh, not south," Ardik called after him. "Come on, Zharkesh, don't just stand there."

The shaman looked troubled. "I'm afraid he is right," he said softly. "Am I a coward to be merciful, to wish for peace?"

"No," said Ardik firmly. "You're just better able to control your fighting instinct. It's probably all that shaman training. My brother could learn a thing or two."

But Zharkesh stayed quiet for the rest of the night—even quieter than usual—and, when they found a bramble thicket where they could hide during the day, he volunteered for first watch and went off by himself.

Ardik didn't feel like talking to Korzesh, who was giving her the silent treatment anyway. So she rolled over and went to sleep—but not before giving Myka a gentle suggestion that, if he wanted to wander while she slept, he might go find Zharkesh and try to cheer him up.

Myka sent her an image of himself pouncing on a field mouse, and disappeared into the brambles.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** _*creeps back in after two months* um, about that whole updating-in-a-timely-manner thing... yeah, sorry. :/ I took a bit of a break to fix up an original novel I wrote, so that I could enter it in the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Awards. Turns out that paid off, since I'm now a quarterfinalist (in the top 250 for the General Fiction category)! So that's cool. Anyway, it took me awhile to get back in the fanfic mood, but I will try to continue updating. As always, thanks for reading and leaving reviews! I heart you all._

**Chapter 5**

As they set out on the fifth night of their journey, Ardik tried to pick up Myka and realized that he was heavier than she had thought he was. Then she stepped back and looked at him, and was shocked to realize that he had almost doubled in size since he hatched a week before.

"That's it," she said to him. "From now on, you are walking."

Myka squeaked a protest, but soon he was hopping along in their wake, using his wings to catch the air. He would glide a little way, come back down to earth with scrabbling claws, and then launch himself up again. He was getting better at it, too; he no longer crash-landed every time, and when they were in flat stretches with no trees, he could sometimes soar right over their heads.

Korzesh and Zharkesh spoke to each other only when absolutely necessary, and they didn't seem very interested in talking to Ardik, either. But Ardik forced Zharkesh to at least help her practice some phrases in the magic language, phrases she'd need to communicate with the elves.

She did not ask about magic lessons again, but what he'd said to her—about learning to control her own inner power—made no more sense than a riddle. Where was she supposed to look to find power inside herself? She could hardly cut herself open and look around inside. He'd hinted it had to do with communicating with Myka, but the dragon's mind held no clues. Myka mostly thought about simple things like food, warmth, sleep, and how fun it was to fly.

For now, Ardik had to resign herself to using the magic language to say things like, "Please bring me food," or, "Where are my shoes?" (Though according to Zharkesh, what she was saying was more along the lines of "give food" or "no find foot clothes"—"I'm bad with words that aren't spells," he repeated apologetically.)

There were no more confrontations with humans, to Ardik's relief; but they passed quite close to a human village that night. Since the war, even the humans were paranoid, and this village had a lookout posted. The man saw them and ran off shouting. "He's gone to alert the archers," said Zharkesh, and upon hearing that, even Korzesh didn't complain about quickening their pace.

"How much longer will we be on their land?" Ardik asked. She missed the safety of the mountains. Here in human territory, they were trespassers.

"A few more days. A week, at the most," said Zharkesh. "We won't be safe until we enter the elves' forest, and even then… I am afraid they will kill us before they realize you are a Dragon Rider."

"Is there anyone in Alagaësia who _doesn't_ want to kill me?" Ardik burst out.

"We are Urgralgra," said Korzesh. "Everyone wants to kill us. Even as we sign their peace treaties, they imagine new ways to double-cross us and stick a knife in our backs."

Myka, flapping laboriously above their heads, sent Ardik a mental image of himself ripping all her foes to tiny shreds. He didn't exactly know what her foes looked like, so in his mental picture, they resembled very large and scary rabbits. But Ardik appreciated the sentiment.

* * *

><p>They were bedded down for the day, and all was quiet. Even Myka had tired himself out with his flying practice. He slept soundly, curled in the space between Ardik's side and her right arm. Korzesh was on watch, but he had dropped off with his back against a tree trunk—and perhaps it was this fact that allowed the humans to sneak up on them.<p>

There were at least twenty of them, plus an assortment of mangy, underfed dogs. Ardik wondered, later, how the human men had managed to keep the mongrels quiet. It was a hunting party from that village they had passed in the night. Afraid to let Urgals travel in their lands unchallenged, they'd gathered all the able-bodied fellows with courage and weapons, and hunted them down like a rogue bear or wolf.

They surrounded the three Urgals with arrows and swords, and might have killed them all in their sleep if Myka hadn't woken first.

He screeched, startling the humans. A dog barked. One man released an arrow, but it glanced off Myka's hard scales and only bruised his back.

All three of them had woken at Myka's noise. Zharkesh showed his empty hands and spoke to the humans in their own tongue, trying again to appeal to the men with reason.

Korzesh wasn't so careful. As soon as he got his hands on his battle-axe, he chopped straight through two men's bowstrings and one man's arm.

Ardik yelled for him to stop, but it was too late. There was nothing for her to do but huddle with her back to a tree, protecting Myka as best she could.

Zharkesh had no weapon. Either he hadn't even brought one, or he could not get hold of it—whatever the case, he fought only with magic, knocking his opponents back with invisible force, or causing their weapons (and sometimes their limbs) to break.

The battle-madness glowed in Korzesh's eyes. He killed half the humans before anyone could make him stop. So focused was he on his own foes that he seemed to forget Ardik, Myka, and Zharkesh existed.

Myka bared his tiny white fangs and growled, straining against Ardik's arms and scratching her with his claws. _Let me go let me go_, he projected into her mind. _I fight, I kill, I protect_.

"No, Myka, no, _no_," Ardik hissed. It was near impossible to keep hold of the wriggling dragon. "You'll get hurt! _Listen_ to me!" She tried to impress these concepts into his mind, but he refused to listen to her. At last he broke free, scoring a long wound down her forearm.

"Myka!" Ardik yelled. "Zharkesh—"

The Kull, who'd been hovering close to defend them, immediately began to chase after the little dragon. To his credit, Myka was causing quite a bit of confusion among the humans; he flew at their faces, scratching with his talons, and then shot up out of reach before their flailing swords could hurt him.

And then it happened. As Zharkesh reached up with both hands, trying to recapture Myka, one of the humans took advantage of his distraction. He screamed something in the human tongue and drove his sword up into Zharkesh's belly.

Ardik thought she might have screamed something—"No!" or "Look out!"—but it was too late. The shaman fell to his knees, black blood spilling out over his hands.

The murdering human stood there laughing at his conquest, until Korzesh's battle-axe took his head clean off.

Two or three humans escaped with their lives, staggering away with broken arms or missing limbs. The rest Korzesh made short work of, and he would have gone after the survivors, except that the battle-lust dimmed enough for him to notice that Ardik was crying.

She crawled over to Zharkesh, who'd fallen on his side, the sword still stuck right through him. "Can't you do something?" she asked, her voice high and panicky. "Can't you heal yourself? Is there any way I can help?"

"I'm a fool," Zharkesh muttered. "Forgot my shield… going into battle. Some… poor magic user I am."

"But you can fix it, right?"

"Too much," said the shaman. "It is a death wound… my strength bleeds away quickly." He shuddered and groaned. "Remember what I taught you… it was too little, but you… you will need it. Ardik? You listening?"

"Yes, but—"

"When I felt Myka choose you… when the egg hatched… I thought it was a mistake." He took another shuddering breath. "I thought you were not worthy. But… your Myka… he knew what I did not."

Myka landed near Zharkesh's outflung left hand. His thoughts conveyed contrition and guilt. _Teacher hurt. My fault. Am bad_.

Zharkesh patted the dragon's side. Ardik saw that Myka's chest was heaving, his heart fluttering too fast, and stroked Myka's other flank.

"You are forgiven," said Zharkesh. Ardik knew he spoke in his mind, too, and that the words he said aloud were for her benefit. "Take care of your Rider… little warrior."

His fingertips brushed Ardik's, against the crest of Myka's spine.

"Where is Korzesh?" he said suddenly. "There are things I must… tell him."

"I am here." Korzesh, who'd been standing dumbfounded as he fought away the battle-madness, knelt down in Zharkesh's line of sight. His battle-axe still dripped red with human blood. "Ardik, go get a blanket or a shirt, something to press against the wound. We must stop the bleeding."

Ardik, berating herself for not thinking of this sooner, ran to do as he asked.

She returned a moment later to find Korzesh bent over, his ear to Zharkesh's mouth. He looked up at her, mouth drawn in a tight line. Flatly, he said, "He breathes no more."

"What? NO!"

But when she knelt and felt for his pulse, when she felt the stillness where there should be life, she knew it was true. His skin was still warm, but there was no breath, no heartbeat. He had gone.

Ardik covered her face with both hands and keened softly. Myka butted his head against her, radiating sorrow and remorse.

"Come on," said Korzesh impatiently. "I need to get you away from here. Those humans might come back."

"Can't you just kill them like you did the others?" Ardik sobbed, gesturing blindly at the carnage around them. Before, she would have felt pity for those men, but not anymore. They had killed her mentor. They deserved death.

"Gladly," her brother snarled. "But I can't protect you and the dragon at the same time, especially not if he goes flying into danger again. Come. The sooner we reach the elves' forest, the better."

"We should bury him first," she mumbled. "We can't just leave him for those men to find."

"No time for that," said Korzesh impatiently. But he did help her drag over some loose branches and weeds to cover the body.

As she shouldered her pack and made ready to go, Ardik looked over once more at the place where her teacher—her _friend_—had fallen. It was hard to believe he was gone so suddenly; hard to picture a future without him.

"Goodbye, Zharkesh," she whispered, and let her brother lead her away.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Without Zharkesh they traveled faster; Korzesh was less careful about avoiding human villages, though thankfully there were no more attacks, and he had less compassion for Ardik's lower stamina. She'd thought her physical fitness was improving, but at her brother's impatient pace, she was soon just as sore and exhausted as she'd been those first few days of their journey.

Myka, on the other hand, grew stronger and flew higher every day. Since losing Zharkesh, he'd been subdued, less playful than he used to be. He turned his energy instead toward honing his hunting and flying skills and keeping careful watch from above. It was as if he thought he had to prove his worth after his disastrous battle blunder.

Ardik made sure she didn't even _think_ of blaming him, lest he read it in her mind. But however sad it was to see her darling lose the innocence of a hatchling, she couldn't help but welcome his new determination. Because of his forewarning, they avoided two potentially ugly entanglements with human travelers, and every night they had a rabbit or two to roast over their fire.

"You have to name him something real," said Korzesh abruptly one night. It was close to dawn, and they were preparing to sleep, Ardik massaging her calf muscles while Myka gnawed the bones from their supper. "You cannot bring him to the elves and then tell them that his name is Darling."

"Why not?" Ardik asked, a little defensive. "They don't speak our language, and probably never will."

"It just isn't right," Korzesh said. "Anyway, he will hate it when he gets older. Any ram would grow to hate a name that emasculates him. Dragons can't be that much different."

Myka coughed, and a bone shard flew from his throat into the fire. He hissed and shook his head, backing away from the pile of cracked bones.

"Is that right, darling?" Ardik crooned. "Will you hate me for calling you a baby's name?"

Myka didn't understand the question. He conveyed that he was tired and his stomach full, but that his throat hurt because of choking on a bone. As an afterthought, he probed her mind questioningly, ensuring that she was well, too.

"My protector," Ardik said fondly. She mentally assured him that the sore aches in her body would go away, that her lingering sadness was not life-threatening.

"Ishnar," said Korzesh.

"What?"

"_Noble Protector_. It is a good name for him. Fitting."

"It is an Urgralgra name," Ardik said. "Not a dragon's name."

"His Rider is Urgralgra. Shouldn't he have a name to match? Probably the elf Riders name their dragons after the elf custom, and humans after theirs."

"I should ask him his name, all the same," said Ardik. "Maybe he'd like to name himself." She looked into the hatchling's eyes and tried very hard to form the question in her mind: _What are you called? What is your name?_

Myka crouched uncertainly, pondering the idea. She felt him struggling to put into words what he was: moonlight reflecting from shiny scales, swift predator pouncing on tiny warm wriggling prey, surging glory in his breast as he caught an updraft and wings carried him high. Then, tentatively, another memory. Zharkesh's face, pained, and a presence in his mind urging him to watch over her. With that memory, shame, because he should have already known she needed protecting. Then, her own face, and a swell of blind, adoring devotion. _Ardik… you… my… Ardik_.

Those were real words, not just thoughts or feelings. Ardik's eyes widened. He was beginning to learn speech!

"What does he say?" Korzesh interrupted.

"I think Ishnar suits him well," she said. _Ishnar. Do you like it, Myka? It is how the world will know you from now on_.

She thought he understood, or at least enough, because he hummed a contented response and butted his head against her thigh. His head was now almost as big as his whole body had been when he hatched. If he kept growing this fast, he'd be bigger than she was in a month.

"How much longer until we reach the elves' forest?" Ardik asked. "Did Zharkesh… did he tell you what to do when we get there?"

"I don't know," her brother responded. He didn't like her to talk about Zharkesh too much; it made him tense. Not that she found talking about her dead teacher any easier. "He only said to keep traveling east. I have no plan for when we get there, beyond trying not to kill any elves, or let any elves kill us. I have heard… the elves guard their territory carefully. They will not ignore our presence very long. When we reach their borders, keep Myka—Ishnar—close. He will be the only reason they spare our lives."

"Oh," said Ardik, her imagination full of pale-skinned, wormlike beings surrounding them and speaking in foreign tongues. Anxiety made her tremble, and she lay down close to Ishnar's warm scales. Without Zharkesh, the whole journey seemed doomed to failure. He was the one who knew the magic language and elf customs. She was sure to make some horrible mistake if he was not there to guide her.

She rolled over so that her back was to the fire, and to Korzesh. As Zharkesh had showed her, she touched two fingers to her lips. "_Atra esterní ono thelduin_," she whispered. She could hear how it was supposed to sound in her head, but her tongue mangled the words. She tried again, and again, until she began to despair of ever mastering even one simple phrase in an alien language.

* * *

><p>The terrain they had been traveling was far from treeless, but Ardik could tell when they passed over into the elves' forest. The greenery around them grew dense and almost impenetrable. They began to have to hack and fight their way through dense bushes and low-hanging branches.<p>

"This is ridiculous," grumbled Korzesh. "It's like they have magicked the woods to keep our kind out."

He meant it in jest, but Ardik feared he was right.

Ishnar was having trouble with the overhanging branches, too. They grew too close together and inhibited his ability to fly free and still stay in sight of Ardik at all times. Not wanting to fly above the treetops, which was still too far up for his wings to safely carry him, he compromised by flying in short hops from branch to branch, like some overgrown bat-squirrel.

After several hours of fighting their way through the brush, Ishnar suddenly stopped. He perched on a sturdy limb and squeakily growled to get their attention. He'd found a small game trail, visible only from above. It seemed to lead deeper into the forest, and once Ardik and Korzesh set their feet upon it, their way became much easier.

It seemed too convenient that some animal had worn this path for them, and Ardik began to worry that they were walking into an ambush. The thick, closed-in trees didn't help her sense of paranoia. She expected the elves to find and attack them at any minute, and worried that they'd kill her first, since she was small and unarmed. How long would it take them to notice Ishnar, hopping about in the treetops like he was? Was he visible enough to stay their enemies' hands?

But as it turned out, they got a whole night's journey into the forest unmolested, and when dawn broke, Korzesh suggested they keep moving and readjust themselves to traveling in daylight. "Easier for elves to see we are not foes if we walk in the light," he reasoned. "Also, I am tired of being poked by branches I can't see." Ardik giggled when he pulled a pained face, then stopped when her laughter fell too loud and irreverent in the close stillness of the forest. The magnified sound reminded her that she had not laughed in many days, and for a moment fresh grief washed over her.

They rested briefly, long enough for Ishnar to catch himself a rabbit and for Ardik to rob a bird's nest of its eggs. Korzesh brought out dried meat from their dwindling supply of food, and they ate in silence, listening to the sounds of Ishnar ripping into his catch.

Touching Ardik's mind, the young dragon conveyed his confusion that here, in the forest, animals did not run away like they did elsewhere. Was it part of the magic of the forest that all its creatures were bizarrely trusting? Ardik didn't know what to make of it, but she'd glimpsed deer and rabbits following curiously or watching them from the brush. In the Spine, those animals would have fled at the slightest sound of a footstep.

She was bone-weary, but forced herself to stay awake so that they could continue on. She almost began going back the way they came before Korzesh turned her back around. It was too easy to lose one's way, here in the elves' forest. And that was assuming that one actually knew where one was going, Ardik thought. Maybe Zharkesh had known where the elf city was, but there'd been no time for him to give them directions to it. They were wandering blind.

Before, she'd been worried about elves attacking them. Now, she began to worry that the elves would never find them, that they would wander here forever.

Toward late afternoon, they stopped again to make camp, Ardik being too tired to continue. She propped herself against a tree trunk and tried not to nod off while Korzesh began the process of building a small fire.

And that, of course, was the moment the elves chose to surround them—the moment their guard was down completely.

They appeared out of the trees, five of them, all with arrows trained on the two Urgals. But their eyes were locked on Ishnar, crouched a stone's throw away and suddenly tensed as though to spring.

"Urgals," said one of them. This word Ardik knew, the humans' bastardization of the Urgralgra people's name for themselves. More words followed, these unfamiliar. They spoke the human tongue, not the magic language, and Korzesh was able to reply.

"What do they say?" she murmured, holding very still.

"Hush," said Korzesh, and kept talking in that strange, slimy language.

The elves were startled by something he'd said. They looked to Ardik, and one of them said a word in the magic language: "_Shur'tugal_." She thought Zharkesh had told her what it meant, but her mind was blank.

Ishnar moved closer to her, trying to put his body between her and the arrows. The elves took the hint and lowered their weapons. They made a curious gesture toward the dragon, bending forward from the waist.

_Not enemies_, Ishnar conveyed.

Ardik hoped his trust was deserved.

She stood, though her feet were still aching, and touched two fingers to her lips as she had been taught. "_Atra esterní ono thelduin_," she said, hoping her pronunciation was recognizable, if not precise.

They all bowed themselves toward her, too, and as one they copied the fingers-to-lips gesture. "_Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr_," they replied. Their faces were hard to read, but Ardik thought she detected a glimmer of surprised approval. They had, perhaps, expected a stupid, brutish animal.

It pleased her to know that she had, in this small way, proved them wrong.

* * *

><p>Ardik couldn't help staring openly at their escorts as they traveled toward the elves' city. At first she had thought they were all women, since none of them had the facial hair that grew like moss on most human males' chins. But it seemed that only one was a female, the one with long silver hair bound in a high horsetail. There were subtle differences in clothing style and body shape—though elves were universally gaunt, with delicate, breakable-looking bone structure, the female had curvier hips and breasts, same as Urgal women.<p>

The elf males took longer to tell apart, but it helped that their hair coloring differed. Two had silver hair like the woman's, one had black hair, and one, alarmingly, had hair the color of the sky. Ardik had never seen anyone with such coloring; she had not known it was possible. More magic, perhaps. Whatever their differences in color, all four males kept their hair long. The blue-haired elf wore his hair loose, but the other three had theirs tied or braided out of their way.

The female's name was Silbe, Ardik learned through Korzesh's sparse translations. Her companions were Taril, Faleth, Caerin, and Víanen (he of the blue hair). The names were hard to pronounce, especially when they were meant to be spoken in the elves' smooth, musical accent, but Ardik made a determined effort to learn them. They'd been disappointed when they found out that not only did she not speak more than a few words of their language, but she couldn't even speak the human tongue. It was frustrating using Korzesh as a translator, especially since he was over-fond of paraphrasing.

Silbe, however, was kind enough to take Ardik under her wing, which meant she also had to be stubborn enough to force Korzesh's cooperation as their interpreter. She picked up teaching where Zharkesh had left off, and because it was her native language, her lessons were much more useful than the few grammatically-incorrect phrases Ardik's mentor had tried to teach her. She also taught the unfamiliar gestures and customs of elf culture, ones that Zharkesh had tried to mimic but could not explain their meaning.

It took them another week to reach Osilon, the nearest elf city. Ardik suspected that it should have taken them longer, but the food the elves provided, and their strong, sweet liquor, gave her the extra energy to keep up with their punishing pace. It seemed everything was magic in this place, even the food—though when she asked about it, Silbe smiled mysteriously and pretended not to understand the question.

By the time they reached the city, Ardik at least knew enough of the magic language to greet someone politely, and to ask and answer a few basic questions without needing her brother's translations. The words still felt foreign in her mouth, and Silbe informed her with a trilling laugh that she had a very heavy accent. But it was still progress.

Ishnar, too, was acquiring language—both her native tongue, and the magic language the elves spoke—with much better success. He was startlingly intelligent for a hatchling who was not yet a month old. The elves loved him; they constantly fawned over him, admiring the beautiful color of his scales and treating him as if he were a prince. Ardik began to be glad that Korzesh had made her change his name. Ishnar was a noble name, one that sounded like the highest praise on an elf's tongue. She still thought of her dragon as Myka, and called him that when they were alone, but she was careful to refer to him aloud by his new name.

He was still growing very quickly, and was now the size of a small pony. Ardik marveled that she had been able to hold him in her arms just a few weeks before, and even the elves commented on his size. One of the silver-haired males (Faleth?) had been alive during the time of the Riders a hundred years before, a fact which boggled Ardik's mind, though she had heard before that elves were ageless. According to him, Ishnar's growth was impressive even compared to other dragons. "He says Ishnar will grow to be huge, massive," Korzesh translated, a bored look on his face (he hated conversing with the elves). "He says this is maybe because we Urgralgra are bigger, stronger, heavier. Being bonded to you, it will influence the way Ishnar grows."

Ardik's eyes went round. "How big will he get?" she queried.

Faleth's answer—that Ishnar would continue to grow as long as he lived—was downright alarming, until he explained that the dragon's growth would slow down after his first few months of life. The most ancient dragons, said he, were the size of mountains, but the average young dragon, in its first decade of life, would only reach the size of a house.

(_Only?_ thought Ardik, staring at Ishnar.)

* * *

><p>They reached Osilon at twilight. The sky was a dusky purple, hints of sunset pink still tinging the clouds, and a quarter moon had just become visible above the treetops.<p>

Their escort formed a tight circle around the two Urgals, and Ishnar stayed close to Ardik's left side. She laid a hand on his neck, comforted by his presence but a little worried that he might tread on her foot.

"Our queen waits for you within the city," said Silbe, through Korzesh. "We sent word of your arrival, and she and her dragon have this day flown from their royal seat in Ellesméra to greet you."

Ardik trembled. These elves were already such strange creatures, hornless and thin and wrong-colored, with such complicated, pointless customs. What must their queen be like? And what might she think of Ardik, a member of the race that elves had long despised as barbarians?

_No fear_, Ishnar said. He used real words, which was still rare for him, and he spoke in her native tongue. _We together. I protect_.

Despite his brave words, she sensed that he was also nervous. Tonight he would meet another of his own kind, for the first time in his life. He lashed his tail, scraping a piece of bark from a nearby tree and startling Víanen enough to make the blank-faced elf step back.

_Calm, Myka. We will be all right_.

Around them, natural-growing trees gave way to twisted, magically shaped tree-houses, and curious elf faces—all looking the same to Ardik—turned to stare as they passed. Ardik's heart thumped. Ishnar's tail lashed.

Though nobody challenged them, Ardik could feel the disapproval in their silence. None were downright hostile, but she was uncomfortably aware that she and Korzesh were likely the first Urgals to be welcomed as guests into an elf city—if not the first _ever_, then at least the first in many, many centuries. The sight of her dragon only put them even more ill at ease, for she was certainly the first Urgralgra Dragon Rider in the history of the world—what many of them might consider a freak of nature.

They didn't want her here. She wasn't sure she even wanted to _be_ here.

But she kept walking, because the elf queen was waiting for them.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's note**: All right, yes, I am the worst updater in the history of ever. Insert excuse here. Basically I've had this chapter almost done for AGES and never got it finished. Shout-out to my friend who keeps reminding me that this exists and telling me to update. :P

**Chapter 7**

They saw the dragon before they saw the queen.

Ishnar noticed him first, picking out the emerald-green scales against the darker green backdrop of the forest. He tensed under Ardik's hand, and poured a cascade of jumbled thoughts into her mind: wanting to fly to the other dragon and greet him with a wrestling match, as he would have done if he had nest-mates; and then a conflicting desire to hide or run away, as this dragon was much bigger than him and surely a very grand and magnificent creature.

Ardik tried to comfort him, but her feelings were much the same. Seated on the dragon's back, small and fragile in comparison, was a female elf, her black hair circled with a coronet of leaves and flowers. The queen. Ardik's future teacher, and one of the heroes who had helped bring down the evil human Galbatorix.

The dragon prowled closer—he was quite graceful on the ground, for such a large creature—then stopped and knelt, allowing his Rider to alight. Answering a mental summons from the green dragon, Ishnar crept forward in equal fear and fascination. And the elf queen strode toward Ardik, pausing only to greet Ishnar with a respectful bow and a few words in the magic language.

Up close, she did not seem much grander than Ardik's travel companions. She was about the same height as Ardik, who had not yet reached her full growth. She wore her hair loose, which was an impractical affectation but emphasized her apparent youth. (Perhaps it also added to her beauty, by elf standards; Ardik had not yet learnt to see beauty the way elves saw it. To her, they all seemed too thin and sickly for real beauty.) Her clothes were not grand robes, as Ardik had half-expected. Rather, she wore well-worn leather trousers, practical and comfortable to ride in. Over that she wore a tunic and shirt in plain colors. Her finely embroidered scarlet cloak and the crown of leaves were the only visible reminders of her status.

Ardik remembered that she, lower in status, must greet first. "_Atra esterní ono thelduin_," she recited, touching her lips. Her pronunciation had improved a little under Silbe's tutelage, but she was still aware of her thick accent.

"_Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr_," the queen answered, a small smile lifting the corners of her mouth. In the magic language, and then again in the human tongue so that Korzesh could translate it, she said, "I am called Arya Dröttning, Rider of Fírnen. What is your name?"

Ardik told her, and self-consciously added, "Rider of Ishnar." She glanced over to where Ishnar crouched, nose to nose with the larger green dragon. His mind was closed to her; their dragons must be communicating in private.

"Well met, Ardik, Ishnar's Rider." Queen Arya exchanged quick words with the elves who had guided them here, and then turned back to the two Urgals. "Please come with me. Your brother as well. It is unfortunate that we speak no common language; I had hoped…" She did not finish that sentence, or at least Korzesh chose not to translate it, but Ardik could guess what she'd hoped. That one of the young rams had been chosen instead of her—one who had fought in the war, one who already had the human language burned into his brain so that he might communicate.

The queen led them into one of the tree-houses; Fírnen stayed outside, and Ishnar hovered between following Ardik and staying near his fellow dragon until Arya beckoned him inside. "This house is for your use," the queen told them. "Ardik and Ishnar may sleep on the second level, and Korzesh—that is your name, yes?—you will sleep here." She motioned at a soft pallet that had been recently added to the room's otherwise sparse furnishings. "There is a bath-house not far away. You have been journeying long and will have need of it. There are attendants waiting for you there, and new garments also."

Ardik looked down at herself, noticing for the first time how grimy she was. It did not occur to her to be embarrassed about smelling bad. Hygiene was not first priority in Urgal villages; a strong body scent was not considered offensive, and most folk only washed when they were actually dirty. If a bath was the first thing Queen Arya suggested, the elves must consider bathing highly important.

"Tomorrow we journey back to Ellesméra, my home," Arya added. "Once there, your training will begin—and the first thing, I think, will be to make you fluent in the Old Language." (This was how Korzesh translated it; Ardik had a moment of confusion before realizing that must be what the elves called their magic language.) "For now, I will leave you to rest. If you have need of anything, speak to my guard. He will wait outside your door."

The elf queen took her leave, and Ardik and Korzesh were left to stare at each other in the middle of the strangest house they had ever set foot in.

"She commanded us to bathe," said Ardik after a pause. "We should do as she says."

Korzesh curled his lip in distaste, but did not protest. It was unlike him to acknowledge anyone's dominance, especially one of another race. Queen Arya was half his size and a full head shorter, yet something in her bearing and speech suggested she possessed far greater power than any person they had ever met. Though she spoke neutrally, put on no display of force as an Urgal ram or Herndall might do, they were both left with the sense that she could crush them if she chose.

The elves' idea of a bath was nothing like Ardik had ever seen. It was like small pond, but _indoors_—a gigantic bowl-shaped indent in the floor, filled with water that steamed as though it was a pot suspended over a fire (though no such fire was evident). Arya's guard showed Ardik through the door and closed it behind her.

Two female elves, dressed in plain smocks, approached her warily and bowed. Ardik stared at them, unsure what they wanted, until they began to pull at her clothes to undress her.

"What are you doing?" she cried in alarm.

They made placatory gestures and backed off, but indicated that she should disrobe on her own. Ardik decided this, too, must be one of those incomprehensible elf customs; back home, no one ever allowed another to see their full nakedness. This was the ultimate submissive act, a shameful thing that stripped away one's power.

When she had taken her dirty, travel-worn garments off, the elf attendants herded her into the pool. Being surrounded by hot water was a surprisingly pleasant sensation, and Ardik began to relax as the elves hiked up their smocks and went to work washing her.

They did not seem to trust her to scrub her own skin to their satisfaction, so Ardik faced the further humiliation of having what seemed like three layers of skin scraped off under their ministrations. The water turned cloudy as dirt and grime floated away. The elves also took it upon themselves to trim Ardik's fingernails and, most alarming of all, give her hair a thorough washing.

Urgals, as a general rule, did not wash their hair. The natural oils were combined with animal fat to slick one's hair back into a trimmed horsetail (for males) or braids coiled around the horns (for females). One especially did not allow a stranger to put his or her hands on one's head; touching the horns was another gesture of strong dominance, usually only allowed for one's parents or one's mate. Ardik objected strongly to having foreign hands near her horns, scratching away at her scalp, and expressed her displeasure with enough splashing and growling that the elves almost gave up. In the end, however, they regained the upper hand, and Ardik underwent the very first shampooing she had ever experienced.

Once she was out of the water, wrapped up in drying cloths, the elves cautiously helped her to brush out her wet hair. They seemed diverted by its length and the surprising volume that it had once it was stripped of grease. Ardik herself was astonished by how curly and fluffy it became; she'd only ever known it to be flat and lank, like anybody else's hair. Perhaps this was why Queen Arya wore hers loose, despite the impracticality. A female could become very vain, having hair like this.

Eventually the elves let her tame the mass of hair back into its customary coiled braids. They took away her drying cloths and dressed her in strange undergarments that were too small. Then they brought out an elf-made dress, one that had mysteriously been tailored to her approximate proportions. It was a little small in the shoulders and elbows, but the cloth was so soft Ardik wondered if they had spun it out of clouds. (With the elves, such a thing was no doubt possible.)

As she wandered back to the tree-house, she sniffed herself in confusion. She smelled like the flowery soaps the bath attendants had used on her; the new dress smelled clean too, like fresh pine. She didn't smell at all like herself anymore. Small wonder the elves looked so ill, if they made it a habit to scrub away their natural scent!

Korzesh was back already, his hair unbound and hanging around his face as it dripped onto the floor. "What an outrage," he spluttered. "They tried to—"

"I know," said Ardik wearily. She gestured at her own head—already her hair was starting to slip free from the carved bone hair ornament. Frizzy pieces sprang out of her braids, making her whole head look unusually fluffy. "On me, they succeeded. I guess you are better at fighting."

Korzesh growled his displeasure. "Is that an elf dress?" he asked. "It looks silly. They should know better than to stuff us into their clothes and their customs."

"I just don't want to make them angry," Ardik said. "So far, they have at least pretended that I am their equal. Is that food?"

Her brother glanced contemptuously at the spread someone had arranged on a table in the corner. "If you can call it that. They have served us no meat—an intolerable insult."

"Really?" Ardik had not thought that the elves might be so poor. To not eat meat with a meal was admission of the most abject poverty—or, as Korzesh had concluded, an intentional insult to one's guests.

The dishes laid out looked very good, however, and Ardik was hungry. After awhile, Korzesh joined her, and they ate the fruit and vegetables the elves had provided, together with the last of the dried meat from their packs. Then Ardik went upstairs to find Ishnar already asleep, having scrunched up the blankets on the neatly made bed to create a sort of nest. She got in beside him and curled under an overhanging fold of his wing. The bed was so comfortable that she, too, was asleep in minutes.

* * *

><p>"They do not eat meat? Not <em>ever?<em>" Ardik and Korzesh stared at each other, scandalized, as Arya kept pace between them, her face blank.

Their journey several hours underway, Ardik had ventured to ask—through Korzesh, so there would be no misunderstanding—if the elves' hunters were away. It was the only polite way she could think of to explain the lack of meat.

"Hunters? What do you mean?" Arya had asked. Then, before Ardik could answer, "Ah. You are wondering why we do not eat meat."

Ardik had been terrified that the question would offend the elf queen, but Arya did not seem surprised to be asked. "It is a personal choice we elves make," she explained. "We take life only when necessary. Fruits and nuts provide all the nutrients we require. We need no meat, therefore we do not hunt."

Eyes wide, Ardik looked to her brother again. "Explain that we Urgralgra cannot live without meat," she said. "Tell her, if we eat plants only, we become sick."

Arya frowned when this was translated. "I did not know this about your people," she said. "You are allowed to continue hunting on your own; no one will be offended if you do so."

So Ardik resigned herself to a daily chore of catching her own meat. Ishnar, who by now considered himself an expert hunter, helped her by lurking in treetops and pointing out rabbit dens below. Korzesh grumbled that this was cheating, but he was tired of traveling, too; Ardik thought he secretly welcomed the dragon's help.

After several days' journey, Queen Arya announced that they were nearly to the elves' capital, a name that fell off the tongue like a whispered secret: Ellesméra. "We will arrive tomorrow," she said, "but before we enter the city, there is someone we must visit."

"Who?" Ardik asked, hoping the question wasn't impertinent.

"A teacher," said Arya, and that was all she would reveal.

Night fell, but still they trudged onward, their way lit by a green light Arya conjured above them. Ishnar complained that he was sleepy and that the scales on his hindquarters itched and that he was hungry. _Hush, Myka_, Ardik told him mentally. _Unless you volunteer to ask the Queen to stop_.

Ishnar's complaints stopped, and he conveyed cringing. Ardik laughed aloud.

Suddenly a new voice called out from the darkness, speaking in the magic language. Ardik recognized a greeting phrase and Arya's name.

Arya stopped, a ghost of a smile on her lips. She responded in kind, adding a string of words that Ardik could make no sense of, except one word: Urgal.

"Ah!" said the voice, not in disgust, but in utter delight. The speaker stepped into the light of Arya's magic. He was an elf man, tall and thin as most of them were, hair pure silver except for streaks of black above each ear. There was nothing Ardik could see in his appearance to distinguish him from every other elf male she had seen.

Then he said, "It is an honor to meet you, Urgralgra maiden."

Ardik gaped. She could understand him.

This elf man spoke the Urgal language!


End file.
